


Who's Gonna Love You

by chamel



Series: Hanging On For Dear Life: Songs of Cara Dune & Din Djarin [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Broken Promises, F/M, Heartache, Heartbreak, Heavy Angst, Lost Love, Moving On, Pining, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamel/pseuds/chamel
Summary: Din spots her in a cantina on Savareen. He doesn’t know why it surprises him, but it does. Why should she be here, of all places? But then again, why shouldn’t she? He doesn’t know what she’s been doing, since they parted.(An angsty fic about loss.)
Relationships: Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Hanging On For Dear Life: Songs of Cara Dune & Din Djarin [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781008
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	Who's Gonna Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This morning I read two truly heartbreaking fics in another fandom, and it put me in a mood. This is what resulted. I knew this song was going to have a fully angsty fic associated with it, so I ran with the darkness. I want to give you all fair warning that there is no happy ending, and there's not going to be.
> 
> This is completely standalone from the other fics in this series.
> 
> Oh and I keep forgetting to say this: I now have [a tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cha-melodius) So please do come say hi. Eventually I'll figure out how it works, lol.

_How did we lose sight of it?  
Where did we go wrong?_

Din spots her in a cantina on Savareen. He doesn’t know why it surprises him, but it does. Why should she be here, of all places? But then again, why shouldn’t she? He doesn’t know what she’s been doing, since they parted. Once, in Mos Eisley, he heard that she was doing mercenary work. Well, he didn’t exactly hear it was her, but how many other stunning dark-haired rebels with a penchant for punching could be out there?

It worries him, even though he knows he has no right to be worried, even though he knows she can more than take care of herself. But he spent years in that seedy underbelly while she was being a good soldier, and he knows what’s out there.

She’s talking to a short man with reddish-brown hair and a scar that slices angrily through his right eye. If he didn’t know better he would say she was flirting with him; even at this distance he can see her eyes flashing dangerously as she laughs too theatrically. The man doesn’t seem to notice. A fool and his secrets are soon to be parted, Din thinks.

He watches her out of the corner of his visor for a while, knowing he should get what he came here for and leave. A Mandalorian lingering in a cantina is an odd sight, and he knows he’ll draw unwanted attention sooner or later. He can’t tear his eyes away from her, though. He thinks she looks different: something about the tone of her skin, or the shape of her braid.

Unbidden, a memory slams through his head. His fingers trail down that braid, feeling the bumps and ridges of smooth hair. Here and there pieces are escaping, worked out of place by his hands as he had threaded his fingers past it only minutes prior. His nostrils are full of her floral shampoo and sweat and the musk of sex. He feels her smile against his chest and press her lips tenderly on his skin.

“Hey,” a voice says, snapping him out of it. He looks up to see the bartender glaring at him. “I said, if you’re not gonna buy anything, stop taking up space.”

The bartender’s voice is loud and Din glances over at her before he can stop himself. If she had noticed him, she gives no sign of it now.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here anyway, quickly. The memory has left him breathless and the thick air in the space threatens to suffocate him. He swears he can smell her shampoo even now, from clear across the room, but he knows his mind is playing tricks on him. He stumbles out toward the door, heedless of the noise he makes in his retreat.

At the door he pauses for half a second and looks back at her involuntarily. She’s leaning closer to the man, her grin full of seduction and hidden danger. In that moment her eyes flick up to him, but if seeing him affects her in any way she doesn’t show it. There’s barely a flicker of recognition in her gaze. The look of detachment twists the blade already permanently embedded in his heart before her eyes drop again, releasing their magnetic hold on him, and he collapses backward into the blinding sun.

_I didn't see your side of it  
And baby you weren’t that strong_

“This isn’t up for discussion,” Din says, snapping his rifle together more forcefully than necessary.

“Like hell it isn’t,” she shoots back.

Her eyes are flashing dangerously and he knows he’s treading on thin ice, but he’s not backing down on this one. Din slings the rifle over his shoulder and reaches for a pair of blasters.

“This place isn’t safe for the kid,” he explains again, as if this time it might change her mind. “One of us needs to stay with him and the ship.”

“Yeah, _you_ ,” Cara spits out, trying to push past him to the weapons cabinet. He steps sideways to block her and hears her growl in response. “Why are you being so dense about this? You know I’ll draw less attention than you will.”

“That doesn’t matter,” he hears himself say stubbornly. He doesn’t know why he feels this strongly about it, but he has a bad feeling that he can’t shake. They’re walking into what is certainly a trap, but the bait—imperial documents on the kid’s origins—is too irresistable. If it comes down to it, if one of them is captured or killed, it needs to be him.

Cara lets out a snarl of frustration, her eyes rolling hard. “This is a _stealth mission_ ,” she says slowly, like she’s talking to a small child. “Of course it matters.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say the minute it’s out of his mouth. He’s never once—since they’ve been working together, since it became something more—suggested that she couldn’t handle a situation, and he doesn’t really know why he does it now. Or rather, he does know, but doesn’t want to confront it. There’s a reason why Mandalorian spouses don’t often fight together, why they are assigned different units and different jobs. Working with someone they love makes people do stupid things that compromise missions.

He tells himself that’s not what’s happening here, even though it clearly is.

She inhales sharply and the air in the ship seems to drop by 20 degrees. For a minute she says nothing, her lips disappearing into a narrow line and her hands twitching, and he wonders if she’s considering knocking him out.

“I don’t need your protection,” she eventually forces out between gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t—”

“NO,” she cuts him off, “I don’t think you do. You promised, when we started this. You promised that it wouldn’t change how we worked together.”

It was true, he had. The night that the tension between them had become too much and their lips had found each other blindly in the dark, she’d stopped them before it went further and demanded he swear it. He had felt her eyes meeting his even in the blackness. It grates on him now, that promise. He wants to keep it, he really does. But he doesn’t think she knows what she’s asking of him.

“Please,” he whispers, the only thing he can do. “I can’t lose you.”

He can feel she wants to argue, but he is shocked when she doesn’t. Instead, her eyes narrow and she frowns at him. “If you get your shiny ass caught, I’m coming after you,” she tells him, “and then, after I’ve killed everyone on this kriffing station, you _will_ lose me, because I won’t stay.”

He has no choice but to agree.

—

When he wakes up he is overwhelmed by a feeling of abject terror, and it has nothing to do with the Imperial general that is currently leaning over him. He thinks maybe Cara hasn’t figured out that he’s been captured, yet, that maybe he can get out and go about his business before she notices. He has no idea how long he’s been out, though, which does not bode well for these hopes. Really, there’s no reason to worry, he’s gotten out of tighter scrapes before.

He’s lying on his right side, arms twisted behind him and bound. When he tries to move excruciating pain goes lancing through his right shoulder just below the edge of his pauldron and it momentarily makes stars flash in his eyes. He tries to look down but all he can see is a dark stain on the fabric under his armor, and, more distressingly, a black sticky pool on the ground surrounding his shoulder. Well, that complicates things.

“Ah, you’re awake,” the Imp says, noticing his movement. “Tell us where the asset is and you may live.”

“Unlikely,” Din grits out, trying to ignore the pain that has rapidly become unignorable.

“I agree, but it doesn’t do to take away your captive’s hope,” the Imp replies lightly as he strolls around the room, like they’re having a friendly conversation about torture tactics. When Din doesn’t respond he stops and walks over to the prostrate Mandalorian. Moments later the Imp’s boot lashes out and slams into the joint between his right pauldron and his breastplate.

A flash of white explodes in Din’s vision, leaving spots dancing in front of him as it fades. He chokes back any sound but can’t stop the way his body convulses. The pain is truly excruciating. The Imp bends down into his line of sight, smiling.

“Care to try again?”

The Imp straightens again but before Din can find the breath to speak again a dark stain blooms in the center of the general’s chest. He looks down in surprise and collapses, revealing Cara standing behind him, multiple weapons drawn like some avenging angel. Din is at once elated and devastated to see her.

When she removes his binding he rolls onto his back, biting back a swell of nausea as the movement cause a renewed surge of pain. For a minute all he can do is lie there, pressing his eyes closed and trying not to let on how much it hurts.

“You’re injured,” she says matter-of-factly.

“It’s not bad,” he lies. He knows he can’t hide the amount of blood he’s lost, and from that and the wound’s location he’s pretty sure it must have nicked his brachial vein.

Cara has apparently figured this out, too. She presses a wad of cloth against the wound. “You’re gonna need real medical attention, but you’ll live.”  
  
When he remembers this moment, what sticks out the most is the look in her eyes. She doesn’t look angry or upset or even scared. Her eyes are dark with sadness and pain, as if she were looking at a dead man instead of a living one.

“Cara, can we talk about this?” he asks, fully aware that this is not really the time.

“Talk about what?” she replies tightly. She’s checking the rest of him for more wounds, but as far as he knows he’s only got the one injury.

“You can’t go just because of this,” he pleads.

She meets his eyes again and now there’s fire in them, and heartbreak. When she speaks her voice is steely with resolve. “What I can’t do is stand around while you make pig-headed decisions because you’re scared. What I _can not_ do is watch you get yourself killed trying to protect me.”

“Cara, I…” He trails off, unable to find the words. She’s right, he was stupid. Worse than that, he didn’t trust her on their mission. He trusts her with his life, but not with her own. A blind panic wraps itself around his heart and squeezes, choking off all of his apologies and pleas.

She looks down at the floor for a long moment, and he sees her shake her head ever so slightly. When she looks up again there are tears shining in her eyes.

“You promised.”

_It’s easier to give up than it is  
than it is to live up_

She waits until he’s recovered before she packs her things to go. In some moments it feels like she’s waiting for something, for him to beg her to stay and promise he won’t do it again. Din tells himself she’s made up her mind and he won’t insult her by needling her to change it. Really he knows he can’t make the promise she wants. Maybe he won’t try to take her place on missions that she’d be more suited for, but if it came down to it he would absolutely give his life to protect her. He’s not making promises he has no intention of keeping.

She talks to the kid alone for a long time the day she leaves, and when they emerge he looks sad but like he understands. Din wonders what she told him. He wishes he could feel that way about this. Instead he feels empty, hollow inside, like a suit of beskar and nothing more. He’s so removed from himself that it takes him a minute to realize she’s walked up to him.

“Good luck, Din,” she says, as if she were just leaving for a few days, as if they were nothing more to each other than colleagues, as if it were the first time he left Sorgan.

He bends his head and sighs, closing his eyes tightly to fight back the sting of tears. “I love you, Cara.”

He’s startled when he feels her hand on the back of his neck and she pulls him forward until his helmet contacts her forehead. There is pain etched on her face, and loss, and his whole body shudders with his next breath. Then her hand slips from his skin and she is gone.

_Who you gonna run to, who’s it gonna be  
Someone’s gotta love you if it isn’t me_

Perhaps a year after he sees her on Savareen, he spots her again in Hanna City on Chandrila. This time she’s walking ahead of him on the street, and he almost doesn’t recognize her from behind. He has to look twice: she’s wearing a greenish-gray uniform with a yellow half-starburst insignia on the shoulder. New Republic Defense Force. It doesn’t make sense, but it’s incontrovertible. The dark hair, the swing of her hips. The sight leaves his throat tight and dry.

It takes him a second to even register that she’s holding hands with someone. Another New Republic officer, clad in the same uniform. He’s tall and dark-haired, and when he turns his face to look at her Din can see that he has an wide, inviting smile. The expression on his face is unmistakable: he’s hopelessly in love with her. Din would recognize it anywhere.

The New Republic officer leans down and kisses her on the temple, causing her to laugh and reach up to pull his lips down to hers. It’s brief, but Din’s heart clenches so forcefully he stops dead in the road. A cart rumbles into the back of him, its driver yelling angrily, and he loses sight of the couple in the chaos. He doesn’t know why he takes off, looking for them desperately, except apparently he’s a masochist. They are near the military academy so there are plenty of other New Republic uniforms in the crowd, and just when he’s sure he’s lost them for good he hears a familiar voice at his side.  
  
“Hello, Din.”

The kid squeals his greeting before Din even realizes that she’s standing next to him, still hand in hand with the other officer. For a moment he just drinks in the sight of her as she greets the kid, rubbing his ears affectionately. There are bars on the shoulder of her suit that he hadn’t seen before, and new beads sparkling at the end of her braid. She straightens and smiles at Din, a pleasant smile you would give an old friend. The constant dull ache in his heart morphs into a vicious stab, and he swallows hard to keep from choking.

“Cara,” he gasps, cursing internally as his voice betrays him. “W–what are you doing here?”

Cara looks down at her uniform and back up at him, grinning. “Probably not what you expected, right? Can you believe they made me an instructor?”  
  
No, no he cannot. Although more he can’t believe that Cara would want to do it. She was so disenchanted with the end of her time with the Rebel Alliance, and he knew she didn’t part with them under good terms.

As if she can read his thoughts, she says, “I would have never gone back if it weren’t for Duncan.” She glances at the man next to her and squeezes his hand. “He gives a pretty convincing speeches when he’s drunk. ‘Be the change you want to see in the galaxy’ and all that.”  
  
Duncan actually blushes at this and gives her that look again, the one that says he thinks she hung the stars in the sky.

Din just feels sick. “Is that so?” he says flatly, trying to keep all emotion from his voice.

“Well I don’t know about that,” Duncan demures. “I’m just glad I make any sense at all.”

Cara laughs, grinning at the other man. Din can’t get over how relaxed she looks, how _happy_. He wants to demand of her _how_? How could she move on? Didn’t they mean anything to her? But in reality it’s been well over a year, and the problem is not that she moved on but that Din never got past the day she left. He still wakes up every day in a cold bed thinking that she’s just gone to the fresher, still expects to see her in the galley cooking with the kid, still feels her presence sitting behind him in the jump seat as he’s flying. Even now, he has to squash the insane idea that he’s standing before her long-lost identical twin, because this could never be his Cara.

She’s not his Cara. Not anymore.

“I’m happy for you,” he forces himself to say, hoping that the modulator masks the bitterness in his voice. He can see from the way her smile falters that it has not. “I should get going.”

He turns and walks away before she can reply. He feels guilty, leaving it like that, but he just can’t stand there anymore. In a moment of terrible clarity he realizes that for all this time a flickering flame of hope lived in his heart, the dream that she would find them and forgive him and they could be together again. Now, for better or worse, it’s been extinguished. He wants to scream and cry and beg her to come back, but he bottles the pain up and tucks it away deep inside him. It will sit there next to his other losses and ache, but he can live with that. He has for most of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this wasn't too depressing, but then again it's kind of supposed to be? Sorry. :/
> 
> Thank you for reading, and thank you so much for all your comments and kudos. They mean the world to me and keep me writing!


End file.
